


some simple and heartfelt lay

by metromaniac



Category: VIXX
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 10:37:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5740480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metromaniac/pseuds/metromaniac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I always feel at peace."</p>
            </blockquote>





	some simple and heartfelt lay

Words are beautiful. They weave into sentences, snaking their way around some feeling that transcends language, reaching into the mind of another to paint an image without a canvas, and they can make you feel the whole rainbow of emotions, if the right combination of words hits right in the Achilles heel.

No denying that the wonder of language was unspeakably beautiful, as there was no denying that Sanghyuk wasn't good with words. Sure, he appreciated them, but he couldn't relate to marks on a page. The human voice, now that was something he could sympathize with. It was just as much a marvel as the written word, really. That simple vibrations from within someone could convey so much. Words can scamper around the horribly abstract, otherwordly phenomenon that is emotion, but a voice, with the proper delivery, can march you right into the heart of another and if it's done just exactly right, your heart beats in sync with them, if just for a moment. Words are language, voice transcends language.

That's why singing was Sanghyuk's life. The words didn't have to be right if he sang them just the right way, pulled any listening ear into himself and took them for a dance.

Until sickness accepted that dance invitation, and his voice didn't take well to it. After years of training, he was finally able to speak loudly for short periods, and sing for even shorter periods, but it wasn't enough. It wasn't ever going to be enough until he regained all the control that disease had ripped from his body. Someday, he'd sing like he used to. Before then, he'd just keep on dancing, keep on smiling, and keep on practicing in the dead shadows of the night. The members accepted his problem with grace, and he never sang many lines, but none of them understood. Wonshik wasn't the strongest singer, but he could rap like no other. Hongbin's was naturally a little bit husky, and that went a long way. Hakyeon held his own. Jaehwan had the most control over his voice, being the master of impressions, and had a falsetto to die for, but each paled in comparison to Taekwoon. Hard-ass Taekwoon, who never wanted to do much of anything but hide from the loud world under a piano, earbuds his main defense line against the incessant noise, suddenly revealing the warm heart inside. Like skin wrapped in clothing all the time, covering his heart made it all the more sensitive. And in that moment, you fall for Taekwoon and then you really don't have a chance to get out.

When you fall for Taekwoon, it's slow, but hard, in Sanghyuk's experience. At a glance, he's fairly handsome, even with those chubby cheeks that do little to assuage his misanthropic aura. Working with him, he gives no indication that he actually wants to be there. Then he sings, and he lets you see a glimpse of the sweetness inside, and you realize how truly gentle he is. Every day that realization becomes more apparent, and then one day Sanghyuk glanced at him and his heart slowed to a calming melody, gentle march in his chest, slow but steady. Steady went a long way for someone who was normally doing eighteen different things at once and rushing each task, tripping over his own feet as he scurried to get it all done.

It hurt a little, knowing it was all unrequited, that Taekwoon would only ever see him as an overactive baby, but mostly it was just comforting. Never before had he been able to properly appreciate little things, like the markings of a cat, or how beautiful it was to breathe. Not until Taekwoon's calm washed over him and opened his eyes. Any animosity he may occasionally harbor towards the older man was not anger at the one-sidedness of his sentiment, but rather the fact that he could sing and twist hearts, just the way Sanghyuk wanted to.

Thoughts like this always ran races in Sanghyuk's head on the days when they didn't have much scheduled. Why had he chosen to be part of a singing and dancing group when he could no longer sing to his full potential? Why had he worked day and sleepless night to make his way up here, where he was a mere background dancer for the sake of symmetry, framing the stage for the real stars? Had he been too hasty? Where would he be left now, if VIXX disbanded? Would his time have been better spent training his voice, earning his name on his vocals alone?

Empty time was always quickly filled with such series of doubt and existential crises, but Taekwoon always brought him back to Earth, just by sitting in silence and projecting his inner peace. Would his vocal training be farther along if he hadn't decided to join VIXX? Probably. But he'd have missed out on standing side by side with some of the most talented people he'd ever come across, and at the end of the day, his strange little family was worth it.

That didn't mean he wasn't a little bitter about it sometimes, though.

The day was winding down, sunlight giving way to a city's artificial glow, and Sanghyuk sat curled up in a camping chair, watching the daily lives of what felt like millions of people unfold beneath his feet. Once again he was thinking over his every regret, trying to replay every mistake differently, create a whole new life based on taking the alternate path on the road. Try as he might, Taekwoon still wormed his way into every scenario, and eventually Sanghyuk gave up with a little sigh. Maybe he was being too hard on himself. Maybe he had made the right choice, and this was his sub conscience’s way of telling him.

“You look down,” a painfully familiar voice said.

“A little,” Sanghyuk admitted into the heel of his hand. “It's nothing, hyung.”

“You've been down for a while,” Taekwoon said, sinking onto the floor next to the chair, watching cars glide along the streets, gliding and stopping, repeat. As always, having Taekwoon nearby settled Sanghyuk's overzealous mind, and he wouldn't give that up for anything. Life was like those cars below. Some bits were smooth sailing, sometimes there was a tough corner to turn, and sometimes you had to just stop, only for a moment, before you could get moving again. And that was okay. Whatever the route, you can always get to your destination.

“I wish I could sing the way you do.” Taekwoon's invitation for Sanghyuk to open up hadn't been direct, but Sanghyuk had spent enough time with him to know he'd extended it. “No matter what you're singing, it's always so...so relaxing. I always feel at peace.” Sanghyuk hid his chin behind his knees, watching Taekwoon through the poor reflection in the window. “I wish I could have that kind of effect on people. Making them feel...something.”

Taekwoon's mirror image may have smiled for a moment, or maybe not. He stood up and, ducking awkwardly, pulled Sanghyuk into a gentle hug. Sanghyuk couldn't say for sure whether Taekwoon actually said it, but he hoped that he didn't imagine the softest “You do.”

**Author's Note:**

> A few years ago I got quite sick and it screwed up my voice a bit, I lose it very quickly if I speak loudly, or even at most people's normal volume if it's for longer periods of time. Hyuk sings so rarely, this sprang from the speculation of "what if a similar thing happened to him?"  
> The title is a line in the poem "The Day is Done" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.


End file.
